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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073687">Deal? Deal.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparrow/pseuds/pennysparrow'>pennysparrow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics), Hellblazer, Zatanna (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't copy to another site, Drinking, Drunkenness, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, all of this is very mild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparrow/pseuds/pennysparrow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zatanna is just trying to help John, and he knows this. He's also too drunk to care.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Constantine &amp; Zatanna Zatara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Deal? Deal.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for drunk John, drinking, minor discussions of mental health, and John having been beaten up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.</p><p>“Sorry John, but you’re cut off.” Granted, Zee had seen him much drunker. And otherwise incapacitated. But, still her cutting him off was… hurtful? Yeah, that was the word. Hurtful.</p><p>“Why?” He let the vowel waver, knowing that it wasn’t helping his case but unable to help it all the same. Which, ok. Maybe she was right in cutting him off. But coping mechanism. “Never mind,” he slurred, pushing himself up.</p><p>“Yeah. You actually trying to do something that’s good for you? For once.” Zee slid the glass closer to herself, taking a sip and then wrinkling her nose. “This tastes like shit.”</p><p>Resting his arms on the back of the couch, John let his head loll back. He hummed, “Yeah well, saving humanity doesn’t pay what it used to. S’effective an’ that’s what counts.”</p><p>John’s eyes drifted close but he could imagine her smiling, curled up in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt on his shitty armchair. “Yeah,” Zatanna chuckled, “I can tell.”</p><p>“Why’re you here Zee? Thought you had that show in… Fuck if I know. You always have a show somewhere though.”</p><p>The glass clinked against the wood again, meaning she’d taken another sip despite her earlier complaints. “Because I heard that you got the crap beaten out of you. Again.”</p><p>With a huff, John lifted his head and cracked his eye open. “And what miserable gossip did you hear that from?”</p><p>Zatanna gave a cryptic smile, lifting his glass and taking another sip. Then immediately wrinkling her nose and ruining her mysterious and smug air. “Well,” her mouth slipped into a guilty slant, “I may have paid Chas to give me a heads up whenever you crawl back into the cab more dead than alive.”</p><p>“Bloody traitor,” John muttered, glaring into the middle distance. He’d managed to shower, getting rid of the blood and muck, and stitch himself up some before she got here at least. Not to mention the fact he’d gotten himself halfway to drunk out of his mind.</p><p>“I mean, you look like shit, John,” Zee leveled a serious look at him. Then she cracked a smile, “And more so than usual.”</p><p>Flipping her off, John let his head fall back again. “I appreciate the concern but ‘m fine.”</p><p>“Half your face is turning purple.”</p><p>“Some might consider that an improvement.”</p><p>There was a weight that settled in the silence between them. Even without looking at her, John could see Zatanna glaring. It wasn’t magic either, just knowing her that well to be able to imagine the exact expression on her face.</p><p>“Look,” John sighed, lifting his head again with monumental effort, “I am fine. A little sore, and a lot drunk but fine. Just, lemme have tonight and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me tomorrow.” He tried to give her a wink but even with the numbness of the whiskey it hurt to do that so John settled for a smirk.</p><p>Zatanna was immensely unimpressed. “You can suffer in whatever messed up way you want tonight because you somehow think you deserve it. But first thing in the morning I’m healing you up and we’re going to see about getting you back in with a therapist-”</p><p>John protested. Though it was little more than noise and a flop sideways onto the couch.</p><p>“Yes,” Zee said sternly. “You were doing ok for awhile there, and not picking needless fights because you felt you deserved to be hurt. And don’t you dare try to protest: Mistress of Magic, remember? I saw you egg on that jerk at the bar until he hit you.”</p><p>She was right. John <em>knew</em> she was right. Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.</p><p>“Fine,” he sighed with his aching face pressed into the couch cushions. “But you let me get right drunk tonight.”</p><p>Her silence this time was more contemplative. John was actually proud of himself for being able to catalogue it while this far gone.</p><p>“Deal,” was Zatanna’s eventual supply. John twisted his head to grin at her. “But,” she added quickly, making his heart sink, “we use something better than this.” Her backwards spell was incomprehensible to his inebriated brain but her “Here” and offered glass was clear as day.</p><p>Taking a cautious sip from his still horizontal position on the couch, John was thrilled to discover she’d summoned some top shelf whiskey for him. Sitting up, he tried not to spill any as he smiled at her. “Ta, love!”</p><p>“Cheers, John. May this be the last night of bad habits.” Her pretty face was solemn as she studied his own much less pretty countenance.</p><p>“Cheers.” He raised his glass but carefully made no promises, knowing he might not be able to keep them and was too good a conman – even like this – for her to tell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this while drunk cause what I wanted to write wasn't working. So whoops?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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